


I Thank the Lord for the People I have Found

by ceterisparibus



Series: Prompts! [7]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Karen Page, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Gen, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Legal Drama, Moral Dilemmas, What else is new, but she needs to calm down, except when he isn't, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceterisparibus/pseuds/ceterisparibus
Summary: Nelson, Murdock, and Page discover that their young client's life sentence was achieved through unethical behavior on the part of the DA's office. And they all have VERY different ideas on how to deal with this.(Late post for the 2020 New Year’s Day Exchange. Prompt: Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters by Elton John. Such a cool song!)
Series: Prompts! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1334596
Comments: 50
Kudos: 79
Collections: DDE’s 2020 New Year’s Day Exchange





	1. Injustice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murderdock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderdock/gifts).



Foggy

“Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers,” Foggy sang loudly at the end of a workday, “turn around and say good morning to the night, for unless they see the sky—but they can’t, and that is why—they know not if it’s dark or light outside—”

“Foggy.” Karen appeared in the doorway to the makeshift office at Nelson’s Meats, arms crossed. She wore thin black pants and a bloodred shirt with her hair tied back, making her look especially fierce today. “The singing. We’ve talked about this.”

“We talked about this at Nelson and Murdock,” he pointed out, undaunted. She _was_ fierce, but she couldn’t risk unleashing her ferocity on him, not as long as he refused to share his chocolate chip cookie recipe. (And she might be able to inveigle Matt into telling her the ingredients, but not even Matt could accurately tell her the proportions, and so far all her attempts at recreating or reverse-engineering the cookies had ended with lumpy disasters.) “Now we’re at Nelson, Murdock, and Page.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize we’d have to renegotiate all the interpersonal office parameters.”

He shrugged innocently. “I’d think that would be obvious.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but that was the moment that the bell chimed over the front door, so they both shut up. Not very professional for clients to walk in on their exaggerated bickering. The fact that they were working out of a brightly-colored deli was already enough to make some prospective clients hesitate.

It wasn’t a prospective client, though. It was Matt, somehow managing to look both like a kicked puppy and like an angry ninja. How he managed both personas simultaneously was and always would be a mystery.

“What’s up, buddy?” Foggy asked, aiming for a tone that was the vocal equivalent of Chris Pratt calming down the trio of velociraptors. He thought he got close.

Matt’s forehead creased further—enhancing the wounded puppy look—even as he scowled a scowl that would make Captain America take a step back. He tightened his grip on his cane, forming a fist around the handle. “They fabricated the evidence.”

If Matt didn’t look so stormy, Foggy would’ve made some comment about Matt’s vague, flat statements that always suggested he knew more than anyone else. Which was extra infuriating because he always _did_. But something was definitely bothering him, so Foggy just came out from behind the table he and Matt shared as a desk and used his foot to nudge a chair towards Matt. Who ignored it.

“What evidence?” Karen asked.

Matt gritted his teeth. “The Walker case.”

Oh. _Oh_. A young black kid, barely nineteen. Accused of first degree murder. The kid insisted he hadn’t even been at the crime scene. Matt said he wasn’t lying, but something wasn’t adding up. Foggy wondered if maybe the kid had gotten confused. Traumatized. Regardless, Foggy and Matt argued it down to manslaughter at first, but then new evidence came out that connected the kid and the murder to a sexual assault. That and the fact that the victim was only thirteen triggered a sentence of life imprisonment without parole.

The prosecution’s case had been shaky, but the kid had refused to go to trial. Not because _he_ though they’d lose, but because his mom, ignorant and freaking out, kept pressuring him to take a deal. (Something about finances, which Foggy understood, but also something about the family’s reputation, which was…heartbreaking, frankly. She’d rather her son just go away and his problem disappear than stick it out during his defense.) And thus Jaden Walker’s fate was sealed.

“How much was fabricated?” Foggy demanded.

Matt started pacing, so much furious energy sparking from him that Foggy was afraid to touch him. He might just get electrocuted. “ _All_ of it. And they withheld more.”

Karen put her hand to her mouth. “Withheld?”

“Jaden was telling the truth—he wasn’t even there. And he wasn’t confused. He _was_ on the subway, and the DA’s had the surveillance footage this whole time.”

Karen swore under her breath. She’d spent a month doing nothing but badgering the subway employees, waging some kind of vicious war of attrition, that resulted in absolutely nothing. No statements and definitely no footage.

“How do you know?” Foggy asked slowly.

Matt’s head jerked towards him, the red lenses of his glasses flashing. “How do you think? I heard them. Some prosecutors at the station, talking about it when they thought no one would be listening. They paid off that eyewitness to say Jaden was at the scene, and they stole the footage and warned the MTA to deliberately send us in circles.”

“Bastards,” Karen hissed.

Foggy glanced worriedly between his two friends. He had a very bad feeling about this. “Jaden’s already been convicted. We can report it to the Bar if we can prove the DA’s office tampered with evidence like that—”

“How?” Matt demanded. “How exactly do we prove that?”

“I’ll prove it,” Karen growled.

Oh, no. Foggy shot her a warning look that seemed to bounce right off her. “If we can prove it, we can get Tower to rectify it. Then we—”

“You _really_ think the Bar’s gonna go up against Tower?” Matt asked sardonically.

Karen’s eyes narrowed into icy blue slits. “They didn’t even look into the shit Reyes pulled, and Tower was right there with her. The Bar’s not gonna do _anything_.”

Oh, no. “Okay,” Foggy relented. “Okay. You’re right. Just…just slow down, all right? Both of you.” Then he held his breath, waiting to see if they’d take his advice. Nelson, Murdock, and Page hadn’t even found its footing yet, no matter how hard they all tried to pretend otherwise. The fact was, they were a mess, their clientele was thin, and DA Tower still wasn’t thrilled at being manipulated by Foggy at every turn during the whole Fisk thing. The last thing they needed was…whatever was about to happen.

But unfortunately, slowing down wasn’t a strength of either Matt or Karen.

“And let Jaden rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit?” Karen snapped.

Foggy winced. He was willing to bet that most of the anger in her voice was directed at Tower and his office. But still. “I’m just saying, we _just_ found this out. Maybe we should, I don’t know, get more information…”

Matt’s head cocked severely. “Like what? I told you what I heard.”

But Karen reached for her bag. Oh, no. “No, he’s right,” she said coldly. “I should do some digging. Find proof that’ll hold up.”

“Um,” Foggy said.

“Yeah.” Matt folded up his cane with three sharp snaps. “I’m coming too.”

“Wait!” Foggy blurted out. To his absolute shock, both Matt and Karen paused. “Just…wait five seconds, okay? I mean, I’m not saying I’m not worried about Jaden, but we don’t need to go pissing off the DA’s office _again_.”

As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back. He couldn’t decide which was worse: the look of utter disgust on Karen’s face, or the way Matt’s lips parted like he’d been stabbed in the gut.

Foggy backpedaled. “I just mean…we should regroup, right? Figure out the best way to deal with this. Not just go in guns blazing, that won’t…” Too late; Karen whipped around and disappeared out the door. “Help anyone,” he finished weakly.

But no; Matt had quickly recovered and was now pressing his lips into a thin line. There was disappointment there, but far more frightening as far as Foggy was concerned was the typical Murdock determination—a particular brand of determination that never led to good things.

(That was a lie. It had led to so many good things. But Foggy was trying very hard to ignore that right now. He’d feel bad about it later.)

Foggy squared his jaw as he stared at Matt, who stood resolutely in the doorway; his face betrayed nothing under his glasses.

Perfect. This was gonna explode over all of them. There was a _system_ in place, but Foggy had zero faith that either Matt or Karen would bother to use it. And it wasn’t like Foggy didn’t care about Jaden Walker, but the corruption in the DA’s office wouldn’t disappear overnight and even if it _did_ , that wouldn’t guarantee Jaden’s freedom.

Instead, Karen would probably do something illegal. And Matt would probably punch someone, which was—surprise, surprise—also illegal. Then Foggy would try to clean up the disaster like he always did, but one of these days his luck had to run out and leave them screwed.

“Matt,” he tried.

“He’s just a kid, Fogs,” Matt said flatly. “And he needs our help.”

And with that, he turned around and stalked out, leaving the little bell overhead to chime musically as the door slammed shut in his wake.


	2. Help or Hurt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These guys are just...so dramatic...

Matt

“Karen, wait!” He jogged after her, clumsily swinging his cane in the barest imitation of use. There weren’t too many cars or pedestrians nearby, but he couldn’t risk chucking the thing in a dumpster and sprinting. For now, she could outrun him if she wanted.

Instead, she spun around at the sound of his voice. “What?”

“Just—where are you going?”

Folding her arms across her chest, she didn’t answer.

“Karen,” Matt said warningly, finally catching up to where she stood stonily.

“It’s literally none of your business.”

“It’s about the Jaden Walker case, isn’t it?”

She threw her hands up. “They can’t just get away with it!”

“It’s not about whether they _get away with it_ , it’s about whether Jaden Walker is set free.”

A harsh laugh burst out. “You’re so holier than thou, I can’t believe it sometimes.”

Stung, Matt pulled back. “Look, I’m just as pissed off as you are, but—”

“Foggy isn’t.”

Ah. Well. Matt simply shrugged, hoping for some stupid reason that the inane gesture would deescalate her.

It didn’t. “This is _just_ like with Frank Castle,” she seethed.

Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “It is?”

“I mean—with Foggy. Remember? He was gonna let that PD just throw Frank to the wolves rather than risk offending Reyes!”

Matt wet his lips uncertainly, unable to disagree but unwilling to vocalize his agreement either.

“And it’s even _worse_ because Frank was…Frank. This is a _kid_.”

“Foggy’s just trying to be strategic.”

She snorted. “Really.”

He reached out and set his hand on her arm, feeling the tension he could already sense vibrating through her. He was almost surprised when she didn’t immediately pull away from his touch. “We’ll talk to Foggy again. Figure something out.”

“Like what,” she said scathingly, “write a strongly worded letter? You know Foggy won’t agree to anything more aggressive than that.”

Matt chewed on the inside of his cheek. Thinking.

“It’s fine, Matt. I know he’s your best friend. You guys can deal with this however you want.” She stepped back and pulled her purse closer to her body. “I have a meeting, anyway.”

“With?” he asked, knowing he had no right to know and knowing she’d be offended, but needing to know she wasn’t about to do something stupid.

“With the _library_. I need to do research.”

Matt hesitated. _Don’t say it,_ he told himself. _Don’t push it._ But he pushed it. “Your laptop’s at the office,” he pointed out.

To his surprise, she sighed loudly through her nose instead of verbally eviscerating him. “I stormed out. I can’t show my face back there for at least an hour, or it undoes all the impact of storming out.”

His lips twitched. “Does it?”

“It’s the rule.” She sighed again. “Go back to Foggy, but _don’t_ apologize for me. I’ll do that later.”

“After you save Jaden Walker.”

Her head jerked in bitter assent. “Yeah. Probably not before that.”

He stood there as she walked off, listening to her heels on the pavement and the _swish_ of her hair against her jacket. The air where she’d stood still crackled with the energy she’d left behind. Bottled lightning escaping through cracks.

Did she really see this as just like the Castle case? Because he distinctly remembered that her involvement with the Castle case had led to multiple illegal actions, including hiding an escaped prisoner and trespassing on his home in the search for the truth.

She was gonna do something stupid if someone didn’t stop her. But he’d learned by now that stopping Karen Page from doing what she wanted was very, very difficult.

Which meant he had to do something stupid first.

Foggy was gonna kill him for this when he found out. But that knowledge wasn’t stopping Matt from suiting up in black, winding ropes between his fingers and around his wrists, and finding the prosecutor’s house that night. Adam Wolfe wasn’t home yet, but he was the prosecutor responsible for Jaden’s wrongful conviction. Something had always struck Matt as… _off_ about the guy. But during the trial, Wolfe had slipped under Matt’s radar. Even the most seasoned trial lawyers got nervous standing up in front of a jury, and Wolfe’s heartrate hadn’t noticeably changed even when talking about the fake evidence, meaning Matt never realized the man was lying through his teeth.

And the part that killed Matt was that Wolfe would’ve gotten away with it if he’d just kept his head down, if he hadn’t felt the need to boast about it to his equally wretched colleagues.

Crouching on Wolfe’s roof, Matt licked his lips and waited. Wolfe lived in the nicest neighborhood Matt had ever been to, with the houses spaced so far apart that a normal person wouldn’t be able to hear the neighbors at all. The whole area felt cold. Empty.

The hours stretched into each other. Matt tried not to think about the other crimes he was failing to stop while waiting here. Tried to convince himself taking out one corrupt prosecutor was more important. Tried to ignore the reality that he was wholly unqualified to make that call.

Finally, he smelled exhaust and heard heavy tires crunching over gravel. Beneath him, the roof vibrated as the garage door opened. Matt shifted his weight, listened intently, and sprang off just in time to land on the car’s high roof.

Inside, Wolfe cursed and braked. Matt flattened himself on the roof. The engine died and the driver’s side door flew open. Matt rolled to the left and dropped down from the roof, landing on Wolfe. He snaked an arm around Wolfe’s neck as he dragged him to the ground, reducing Wolfe’s scream to nothing more than a strangled grunt. The man’s arm flailed, fingers catching in the tendrils of Matt’s mask.

Until Matt twisted that arm almost out of its socket, anyway.

He took advantage of Wolfe’s instant distraction to swing himself up onto Wolfe’s chest and stomach, pinning him with a knee digging into his solar plexus. “Shhh,” Matt hissed.

“Who—who—”

“You know who I am.”

For a second, Wolfe lay completely still. As if processing Matt’s words. Then he suddenly threw himself to the side. Bad move. There was a faint _pop_ from his shoulder when Matt slammed him back to the ground.

“Listen,” Matt growled. “I’m gonna tell you how this goes, although you _should_ be familiar with the routine. I know you’ve heard the statements from some of the men I leave for the cops.”

Wolfe reeked of fear. He nodded frantically.

“Now I already know you withheld evidence and gave false evidence at Jaden Walker’s trial. I need to know who else was involved.”

“I—I didn’t—”

Matt grabbed his wrist and twisted it.

“Okay!” Wolfe yelped. “I just needed it for my record!”

“ _Who else?_ ”

“Jones. Medrano. Wilkes. They—they helped.”

Good. Matt nodded and sat back a little, lessening the pressure on Wolfe’s solar plexus as a reward for telling the truth. “And what are the four of you going to do about it?”

Wolfe’s breathing ratcheted up, shallow and panicky. He didn’t speak.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Wrong answer.” Matt leaned in close, digging his knee into that tender nerve in the abdomen. “Here’s a hint: you’re gonna go to the judge and get Jaden released. You’re gonna do the same for every other defendant you’ve gotten locked up on bad evidence.” Wolfe let out a low groan; Matt ignored him. “You’re gonna issue a public statement. You’re gonna give the names of everyone who either _helped_ you or _looked the other way_ to the Conviction Review Board and the Bar Association. Then you’re gonna get the hell out of my city.”

“Okay—okay—okay—”

His heart was jackhammering so fast that between that and the way he’d fooled Matt in court, Matt couldn’t be sure. “Swear it.”

“I swear! I’m on your side,” he gasped out. “You take down the criminals, I lock them up.”

Matt still wasn’t convinced he was telling the truth, but there wasn’t much Matt could do—except make it clear what would happen if Wolfe reneged. “That’s right.” Matt drew back his fist. “Taking down criminals is just what I do.”

Karen

Fact: when prosecutors were aware that a defendant was wrongfully convicted, they had an ethical duty to rectify the situation.

Fact: though New York’s Conviction Review Bureau had freed several defendants from wrongful convictions over the past few years, the bureau rarely held any particular prosecutor responsible.

Fact: people like Jaden Walker were gonna keep getting hurt.

Fact: if she didn’t do something about it, she couldn’t guarantee that anyone else would.

She kept things simple to start off. She made an appointment as soon as she’d familiarized herself with Rule 3.8(c) of the New York Rules of Professional Conduct, the rule dictating how prosecutors should handle wrongful convictions. Adam Wolfe was busy, though, and couldn’t see her for about three days. That was fine. That gave her more time to do research. The only trick was pretending she wasn’t still on the case, so to speak, even after Matt showed up bright and early to announce that Wolfe was going to take care of Jaden’s case. And all the others.

Well, good for Matt for cornering Wolfe, but Karen couldn’t be sure Wolfe was really playing along. Not unless she saw him herself. The fact was, Wolfe—and the whole DA’s _office_ —was just too powerful. She couldn’t leave anything to chance.

She just…didn’t tell Matt or Foggy about her plan. Foggy was happy for the issue to be resolved, so he didn’t push. As for Matt, well, she’d figured out a system to avoid lying in a way his supersenses would catch, and effectively dodged all his questions until she could escape for the appointment.

Wolfe’s assistant let her into his office. The man himself was at odds with the warmth of the oak wood paneling of the room, the deep red law books lining his shelves, and the burgundy rug blanketing the floor. Wolfe was a wiry man, gray-skinned and gray-haired and wearing a suit of about the same color, although it was probably over fifty years younger than he was. His eyes were equally dull: pale blue irises that looked like they’d been bleached. The only real color on him came from the brilliantly split lip and the deep purple bruise surrounding his right eye. His left arm, meanwhile, was in a sling.

Karen winced dramatically when she saw him. “Ouch, what happened to you?”

He glared. “Met someone who disagrees with my sense of justice. Comes with the territory.”

“Didn’t you fight back?” she asked innocently. “Self-defense, right?”

His jaw tightened. Because yeah, he must’ve tried to fight back. But against Matt, he would’ve lasted less than two seconds. He said nothing.

“At least he left you alive,” she remarked. “Whoever he was.”

“Do you have a point, Ms. Page?” Wolfe cut in. He did not invite her to sit.

Time to start circling closer to actual issue. “What, exactly, was the disagreement?”

He stiffened, almost flinched, but still gaped at her like _she_ was the one out of bounds here. “What makes you think you have the right to know anything about that? If you don’t get to the point, I’m calling security.”

“You think your security could take Daredevil?”

A flush under his translucent skin spread up his neck at the implicit threat. “Who said anything about Daredevil?”

Her heart beat faster as they neared the moment of truth, but she was sure he couldn’t tell from looking at her. And _he_ couldn’t read her heartbeat like he’d read her personal journal. “You did,” she said calmly. “Daredevil was the one who _disagrees with your sense of justice_ , wasn’t he? You know…” She dared to step closer. “I thought Daredevil only went after criminals.”

He reached for his phone. “I’m calling security. Have a nice—”

“I had a question, actually.”

He picked up the phone. “And you think I want to hear it?”

“Rule 3.8(c),” she said.

He froze.

“I’m working on a case that a prosecutor intentionally mishandled, and I just want to know exactly what the consequences might be if he fails to rectify his mistake. Legal consequences, or political, or personal. All of it.”

Showing the slightest hint of teeth, he slowly set the phone back on the desk. Then he set his hands on the hard surface and leaned over it. The wood creaked. “Well, Ms. Page,” he said, each word delivered like a death sentence, “you can tell Nelson and Murdock—”

“Who said anything about them?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m a PI, Mr. Wolfe. Investigating the bad guys is just what I do.”

“Get out. Get out _now_.”

She flashed a smile. “Can I just get a statement for that report I’m writing on prosecutorial ethics? On record, of course. No need to be shy about having your name associated with my research, right? Then again, that might happen whether you want it or not.”

“Leave!”

“Sure thing, no problem. Believe me, I can always come back later.” She turned on her heel and left his office, leaving the door hanging open. But she made sure he could still see her when she pulled out her phone. Didn’t bother calling anyone, just spoke loudly enough for him to hear. “Hi, Ellison, it’s me. Just got done speaking with Adam Wolfe, and the facts just got juicier.”


	3. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry for the delay and I promise this is still alive!

Foggy

Today _sucked_. Foggy got back to the office after five and all he wanted was to turn himself into a pile of goo. Or, failing that, get drunk enough to forget every awful minute of the last nine hours or so. But unfortunately, he could do neither of those things. Instead, he had to plunk himself down at his desk and make himself think about each and every terrible minute.

He pulled up his chair, which somehow felt about fifty percent less springy than usual, and took about a full minute to figure out which dumpster fire to prioritize first. He’d just decided that his best course of action was getting started on that new motion to compel for Jomari Garcia’s case, figuring it was better to get it out of the way—as a rule, judges hated getting involved in discovery squabbles and Nelson and Murdock weren’t exactly beloved names around the chambers right now—when Karen popped her head in asking if he wanted coffee.

Since alcohol was out and he had a long night ahead of him, it was safe to say that he _really_ wanted coffee. But he did _not_ want to have to look at Karen’s face, since she was the reason why Nelson and Murdock were Public Enemy Number One with the prosecutors, which pretty much inevitably meant they were also Public Enemy Number One with the judges.

To be fair, Matt wasn’t exactly innocent in all this either. But no need to fret: Foggy had more than enough ire for both of them.

“Karen,” Foggy said coldly, “I want the equivalent of an entire pot.”

A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows. Usually, Foggy found it adorable. “The equivalent?”

“Yes, Karen, I want the equivalent of an entire pot, but I want it from Starbucks.”

“Um…we have our own coffee pot…”

“Yes, I’m familiar with that coffee pot, but, sadly, I’m also familiar with the coffee you make with it, and after what you put me through today, the _very least_ you could do is get me coffee that doesn’t taste like _Thor zapped it with his lightning hammer._ ”

Karen’s mouth fell open and she took an actual step back.

It was, of course, at precisely this moment that Matt appeared like a ground squirrel summoned from its den. A protective ground squirrel who did not appreciate anyone yelling at his mate. Except Karen wasn’t his mate. This analogy was falling apart and Foggy had a headache.

“What’s going on?” Matt asked quietly, like he didn’t know exactly what was going on. He _should_ know, anyway, since he’d had to deal with his own set of dumpster fires all day.

But no, his faux-innocent protective puppy-dog eyes were just too much to deal with today. Foggy slammed the Garcia file down onto his desk. “What’s going _on?_ What’s going _on_ is that every. Single. Motion. I made got denied today, and that’s because the two of _you_ managed to piss off every judge in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Karen looked infuriatingly indignant. Matt, to his credit, looked at least slightly chagrinned.

“What did _we_ do?” Karen demanded.

“Don’t play stupid with me, it’s not a good look for you,” Foggy snapped. It was true that stupid was a terrible look for her, but it was also true that Foggy was pretty sure she’d really had no idea that going after Wolfe would have such a backlash. But that was exactly why she should’ve _listened_ to him. “Ninety-nine percent of our judges used to be in the DA’s office, so guess who they’re buddy-buddy with?”

She winced. “Wolfe?”

“Yep. He’s pretty much _best friends_ with the judges who just denied every single motion to suppress I made today.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “Even for Alicia’s case?”

They’d spent weeks badgering the DA to turn over police records so they could show how the illegal handgun in their client’s purse was found through an unlawful search by Officer Christenson, and now it was all for nothing. Foggy nodded, too angry to trust himself to speak.

“Fogs,” Matt said, voice low in an obvious attempt to sound calming and In Control, “we can deal with this. It’s just judges, you know how they—”

“It’s not _just judges_ , Matt!” Shoving his chair back, Foggy stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s the two of you refusing to go through the system for once in your life! What’s next, Matt’s gonna go beat up our landlord when he hikes up our rent, and then Karen’s gonna follow it up with creepy blackmail?”

Matt turned on Karen, forehead crease with confusion. “You did what?”

Hands on her hips, she glared at both of them. “I just told Wolfe to back off.”

Foggy pointed accusingly at Matt. “You didn’t put her up to it?”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Karen hissed.

Matt took a tiny step backwards, either because he had no idea what was happening or because he sensed that the room was about to go up in flames. “I was at the courthouse all day and I didn’t hear anything about Karen. Everyone was gossiping about how much the prosecutors hate our firm and there was a little talk about how Wolfe got, um, banged up, but…”

But what else was new? “Well, _you_ didn’t get a phone call from Wolfe himself, asking if I sanctioned her,” Foggy said flatly.

Karen bristled. “Sanctioned?”

“He didn’t call me,” Matt argued, like that was somehow a relevant point.

“Because Wolfe thinks you’re scary but he thinks I’m a marshmallow,” Foggy explained impatiently; he would’ve thought it was obvious. He sighed loudly. “Karen, just tell him what you did.”

She drew herself up. “I spoke with him about his ethical obligations.”

“And said you knew Daredevil was the guy that dislocated his arm!”

Karen frowned at Matt. “Dislocated? I assumed it was broken.”

Matt just looked utterly lost. “You talked to Wolfe?”

“I did what you did,” she said stonily.

Foggy sighed again. “And you _both_ cost us about six motions today.”

Matt grimaced. “He was gonna let Jaden Walker rot in jail.”

“And what you did didn’t change anything!” Foggy exploded. Why couldn’t they _see_ that?

“At least we did _something_ ,” Karen muttered as if to herself.

How was it possible that they both tossed gasoline and burning matches on half of Nelson and Murdock’s cases, and yet _Foggy_ was still the bad guy?

Matt tugged on the collar of his shirt, that thing he did when he was feeling suffocated by life. “It was the only thing that could’ve possibly gotten Wolfe or Tower to look at the conviction again.”

“At what expense?” Foggy shot back.

“All you care about is our firm—”

“I care about our firm because I care about our _clients_ ,” Foggy growled, because no way did Matt get to say that to his face. Elena Cardenas wasn’t the only client Foggy had gone out of his way to help, whether it be with his own shoddy handyman skills or calling in favors.

Yeah, he cared about the money. Yeah, still dreamed of an office with shiny elevators and free bagels. But doing this Mother Theresa thing with Matt felt _right_ and he wasn’t about to let it all explode just because Matt and Karen couldn’t think two steps ahead between them.

“Guys,” Karen said quietly.

Foggy looked at her. Matt sort of tilted his head.

“Maybe…” She looked nervous, maybe even guilty. (Or maybe Foggy was just projecting. Except what did he have to feel guilty about?) “Maybe we should call it a day. Regroup tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Foggy said, a bit more tersely than he meant. He’d just be putting off all the new motions he had to write, but he didn’t think he was in a great headspace for being persuasive. Depressingly, motions were not usually won by the most creative use of expletives.

But Matt, of course, had that awful look on his face, like a visor had slid down over his expression. A clear sign that he was either hurt or scared. Or both.

Foggy forced himself to take a deep breath. “Buddy. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I know,” Matt said tensely.

“And so are our clients.”

“I know.”

Foggy hated when he shut down like that, especially since it was so pointless. They all knew he was Daredevil, so why did he have to hide whatever was going on with him? “Drinks at Josie’s?” Foggy suggested weakly.

Matt was already backing out of Foggy’s office and into his own, a move that would’ve made Foggy trip over a baseboard or something but which he managed to pull off flawlessly. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

With that, he disappeared.

Foggy stifled a sigh and rubbed wearily at his forehead.

Karen touched his arm. “I’m sorry about your motions.”

Not quite the apology he was looking for, but he’d take it for now.

The three of them eventually dispersed—leaving at different times and taking cabs in different directions. And Foggy was left wondering how much of this was his fault.

Sister Maggie

Sometimes she thought solitude shouldn’t be a comfort. She was called to serve others, to love and be loved in a reflection of divine love played out amongst broken people. And yet she’d always sought solace in lonely shadows.

These days, she often returned to the shadows in the basement. Today, for instance, she sat on the old cot, running her fingers lightly over the edge of the blanket. She didn’t use to spend so much time in that part of the church, but it bore Matthew’s imprint in a way that nowhere else did. She hated that he’d had to go through such pain as he returned to life in the real world, but she’d also never seen such honesty in him since. When they spoke now, it was often at a coffee shop, or occasionally in his apartment. He wore his glasses and smiled at her and laughed politely, and kept the deep parts of himself tucked away.

But hadn’t he been the one to find her before Father Lantom’s funeral? Hadn’t he been the one to reach out? Hadn’t he asked her, in his own quiet way, to counsel him?

So why this cold distance between them now?

And Maggie was at a loss how to bridge the gap. Perhaps Father Lantom, who’d known Matthew so much better, could have helped. As it was, Maggie was on her own trying to connect to her son—and failing.

(The shame she’d felt when she first gave him up paled in comparison to this. This was compounded.)

Suddenly, she stood up from the bed. She was wallowing. Dwelling on sins that were, supposedly, forgiven. Better to accept that mistakes came with consequences that were not necessarily a punishment, meaning there was nothing wrong with moving on however she could.

Best to set her hands to work. She moved towards the shelves, deciding to start on laundry. She had a terrible habit of letting the clean stuff stack up in baskets without ever putting it away. Unfortunately, the mindless job did nothing to soothe her thoughts.

So maybe it was providential that she’d barely gotten anything done when she heard footsteps descending the stairs, followed by an achingly familiar silhouette. “Matthew,” she said, stepping away from her work.

“You’re busy?” he asked, tilting his head. He wore a crisp suit, complete with red glasses and white-tipped cane. He looked tired.

She couldn’t help wishing he’d at least shed the glasses. “Not too busy for you.” As she said it, she realized it sounded too…too something. But she couldn’t take it back now.

The side of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly. “I can help.”

“It’s just laundry,” she said awkwardly.

“If you’re doing it, it must be important.”

She had no idea what led him to that conclusion, but she wasn’t about to argue. She reached out to take his arm, but no, he didn’t have to pretend down here. She couldn’t say many good things about her relationship with her son, but she _could_ say that at least he’d never had to pretend with her.

She led him to the shelves and he propped his cane against some of the shelves so he could run his hands over things, getting a feel for how best to fold the laundry. It didn’t matter to her, but he wanted to do it perfectly, with nothing left undone. He started in on the project, and she worked beside him, and eventually they fell into a rhythm. Neither of them spoke, not getting anywhere close to the painful conversations they still needed to have. And yet, in this moment, she was content.

Until she got a better look at his face. His forehead was creased. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried. With his life, most likely both. “Is everything all right?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said tightly.

She didn’t believe him, but she still didn’t argue. Instead, she pretended to focus on her task.

They made it halfway through the basket before he spoke. “We had this case,” he said suddenly, and he started telling her about a kid named Jaden Walker, about a life sentence, and about corruption.

Maggie turned to study her son anew. She spent so much time worrying over what he encountered night by night that she sometimes forgot the weight of his day job. “What are you going to do?”

His movements were harsh as he folded a towel. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

With a sigh, he turned to face her, except that he kept his head angled towards the floor. “Foggy didn’t want to help.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows, finding that hard to believe.

“He…didn’t want to do anything drastic,” Matthew amended reluctantly. “He wanted to report Wolfe to the Bar, even though we both know that won’t do anything.”

“It really won’t do _anything?_ ”

His mouth twisted. “It…won’t do enough.”

“You’re sure?”

“They’ve been playing their game for years. Even if Wolfe is actually disciplined, that doesn’t mean he or Tower will ever do anything for Jaden Walker. We’d need the media to put pressure on the case.”

Maggie hummed thoughtfully. “Isn’t Karen connected to the media?”

“She…was,” Matthew stammered. “But that ended badly. I can’t ask her to deal with her editor again.”

“Can’t you?” was all Maggie said. When he didn’t immediately respond, she shrugged. “So what _has_ Karen done for your client?”

“Ah…well.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “I see.” The Karen she knew had certainly been fiery, opinionated, and prepared to use whatever means necessary to secure justice. Not unlike Matthew.

“And I guess that kind of backfired.” Setting a towel aside, he jerked his chin up almost defiantly. “She followed up with Wolfe after I…had a word with him. So now Wolfe knows our firm is connected.”

Wouldn’t Wolfe know anyway? Leveraging violence against him wouldn’t do any good if Matthew didn’t make it clear what Wolfe needed to do differently. “What exactly did you and Wolfe talk about?”

He shuffled his feet. “Right. But, Mom, it was the only way to get him to _listen_.”

“So did he get your client released?”

Matthew hesitated. “Not yet.”

She nodded. Still, she had a sense that she was missing some crucial information: both more facts as well as, probably, the root of why Matthew was so upset. When she was helping most people work through problems, she’d use a broad question and trust the other person to raise whatever issue was the most concerning. But she wasn’t sure whether Matthew trusted _her_ enough to be so honest.

“How did things backfire?” she asked.

His jaw tightened. “Talking to the judges. Getting pretty much all our motions denied.”

“He can do that?”

Matt shrugged. “Most of the judges used to work with him. There’s a pretty close circle among the cops to the prosecutors to the judges.”

“And defense attorneys are outside that circle.”

“As are our clients,” he said sharply.

Oh. Maggie made a sympathetic sound as she handed him the last towel. She should find more laundry—not that the work urgently needed to be done, but she suspected that Matthew might leave unless she kept him busy, made him feel useful. “So, you’re worried about your clients?”

“Yeah,” he said, and didn’t elaborate.

She studied his face. Lips pressed together, sunglasses giving nothing away. His walls were up. So why did he come here?

Folding the last towel, he tucked it away and, to her dismay, reached for his cane. “Thank you,” he said.

For what? Giving him a menial job to do? Not helping him deal with any of his actual problems? She opened her mouth before she’d worked out what to actually say.

Too late. He was already heading back up the stairs.

She closed her eyes and reminded herself that she had no one to blame for this cavern between them but herself.


	4. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am obviously sooooo late on posting this last chapter. I'm sorry! I got Distracted. And this is the End, and Endings are either really fun and fall seamlessly into place, or they're beasts. This one was more of a beast. But I hope you enjoy anyway. I know I had fun examining the pros and cons of Nelson, Murdock, and Page's differing approaches to friendship and justice.

Matt

What did he think visiting Maggie would even do? She wasn’t a lawyer or a judge, she wasn’t part of their office. She could be a useful sounding board, sometimes, but not with this. She might be able to appreciate the complexity of the situation, but she didn’t know enough about the relevant systems at play to help him figure out how to balance all the competing interests.

He paused at the bench outside the church. It was too early to go out as Daredevil and he definitely didn’t want to go back to the office, even if no one else was there. He shuffled his feet a little, unable to make up his mind, before he ended up just dropping down onto the bench.

The wood was rough underneath him, chipped and weather-worn. It brought back memories of Father Lantom’s dry voice, his quiet wisdom. He always had questions to ask, questions that got down under all Matt’s defenses, and stories to tell that illuminated whatever problems seemed so impossible, and…and _sympathy_ for what Matt was trying to do.

What would he say, if he were here now?

Matt felt his lips quirk in a small smile. Well, he’d probably quote something from Proverbs, forgetting the exact reference and mixing two or three verses up together. The next second, Matt’s smile fell away. Father Lantom wasn’t here, and Matt would never again on this earth hear his voice.

Maybe he should go back and ask Maggie for more advice, or actually listen what she had to say. But something in him recoiled from the thought.

Which left him with…what?

The next morning, he woke up already anxious about what new fight might break out at the office today. On top of that, he was bruised and stiff from the hours he’d spent on the street last night, chasing any and every excuse to throw a punch, and he found that blood had seeped out from under the bandage he’d carelessly pressed over the knife wound on his side. Too shallow a cut for stitches, but now he had the taste of copper sitting heavy on the back of his tongue and blood on his sheets.

Great.

A very small, very petulant part of him wanted to just pull the pillow over his head and pretend that today didn’t exist. Instead, he got up, determined to make room in his morning schedule to throw his sheets in the hamper and get a fresh bandage.

No time to sit down for breakfast, although to be fair he rarely did that anyway. Instead, Matt got out the peanut butter and dropped two slices of bread in the toaster. And then he found himself with about two minutes of time and nothing to do to fill it.

It had been a while since the last time he’d prayed.

He still went to mass, sometimes, although listening to someone else preach was almost painful. He’d tried confession once, more because he knew he _should_ than because he had any desire to engage in the sacrament, and the resulting confession built on half-truths given to a stranger who had no idea who Matt really was had only made him feel worse.

But if Matt was being honest, his problem with prayer had nothing to do with how little he knew the new priest and everything to do with the fact that trusting God to have a plan for his life did not necessarily translate to trusting God with…anything deeper.

Definitely not with questions or concerns or, worse, anger. Father Lantom had never encouraged Matt to hide those things even when they were in God’s presence, but the nuns who’d raised Matt had prioritized plastering on a devout exterior over honest prayer.

Still. Desperate times, and all that. He probably had about a minute left before the toast was ready, and then he’d be out the door. In a way, it took the pressure off. God would know better than to expect eloquence from him right now.

Matt closed his eyes out of habit and tried not to feel stupid about it. His hands moved automatically in the sign of the cross. “Father,” he began, meaning to start asking for…wisdom, or for a solution, or _something_ , but he automatically caught the words on his tongue as he imagined old Sister Arlene’s scent (orange from her shampoo, chemicals and fake lemon from the sanitizing wipes she was obsessed with, pepper because she always put pepper on everything she ate) and voice (soft with the other kids, but stern with him, like she expected him to be better-behaved or more devout just because he was blind, always emphasizing the first half of his name with strange indignance, _Mat_ thew). She called on him to pray in classes more than she ever called on anyone else, not caring that he’d rather pray on his own, and she always lectured him whenever he opened with “selfish requests” instead of with thanksgiving.

He started again. “Father. Thank You for…Foggy. And Karen. And Maggie.” Three people who Stick would’ve said were just as likely to get him killed as they were to end up dead. But three people who were each one of God’s greatest gifts to Matt. “You knew I’d need them, huh?” It was hard to keep his bitterness out of the prayer entirely. “You knew I’d never be able to do what You’ve called me to do alone, and You…You’ve given me the perfect people to help me. But I don’t…we don’t know what we’re doing. Trying to make a difference when there’s no justice in the system.” Matt’s voice got stronger. “The system’s so broken and I can’t…I can’t _fix_ it. Doesn’t that bother You?”

He paused, almost like he was expecting an answer out loud, a voice from the ceiling that echoed his anger.

“It has to,” Matt insisted, not sure whether he was trying to convince God or himself. “But Foggy and Karen, half the time I think they’re just making things worse.” He paused again, then added in a mumble, “And I guess they’d probably say the same about me. So…”

His toast popped up, making him jump.

Derailed, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just, uh…help us know what to do. Please. How to help and not make things worse. And…” This part really did feel like a selfish request, but he couldn’t help it: “Could You…could You please help us to, um…get along?”

He cringed. _Get along_.

Whatever. His toast was ready and he had to get going. He hurried through the sign of the cross again. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.”

He braced himself at the door to the office, reminding himself that he was not necessarily entering a war zone. His friends were gifts from God, not enemies, and he needed to remember that.

Especially if today went like yesterday.

And it wasn't exactly off to a great start. He was late after doubling back to change his shirt when he realized he was bleeding through the bandage on his arm again. (Maybe he really had needed stitches, but oh well, it was too late now.) Then, to make up for it, he had to stop and grab everyone coffee.

Only to arrive at the office and find that apparently Foggy and Karen had both had the same idea. Matt actually gagged coming through the front door at the thick, cloying smell of overpriced, sugary lattes.

“Matt?” That was Karen scurrying out to meet him. “Are you all right? Are you sick? Are you concussed? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Matt said quickly, handing her the drink he’d gotten for her. Nothing but sludge made of chocolate and espresso. “I’m _really_ fine,” he insisted in response to her pointed, unconvinced silence. “It just smells really strong in here.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly. “Those would be the other rounds of apology coffees.”

“The what?”

“Well, apparently Foggy went home last night and talked to his parents for like three hours straight about our firm dynamics—not getting into the Daredevil stuff,” she added quickly, “but enough to give them the general idea. Meanwhile, I went home and, um…” Her temperature rose slightly with embarrassment. “Google some stuff about, like, compromise…” Her heart skipped a little.

Matt tilted his head. “Compromise?”

“...All right, I googled hostage negotiation strategies.” She tossed her hair. “And I learned a _lot_ , okay?”

At that moment, Foggy emerged from his own office, yawning and ruffling papers. “Morning, Matt. Hey, I was hoping you could go over these motions with me once you—is that _more_ apology coffee?”

“How’d you guess,” Matt murmured wryly, handing Foggy his drink. Buttery caramel mocha with lots of whipped cream. “Does this mean we can, uh…”

“Exchange coffees and not talk about it?” Foggy asked hopefully.

That, exactly. Except that not-talking-about it wouldn’t change anything for Jadyn Walker in case they needed to follow up with Wolfe again, and it wouldn’t help them handle this better the next time the same sort of situation came up.

Trust Karen to be the voice of relationship reason. She sounded reproachful as she handed Matt two identical lattes, no frills, and said, “Guys.”

“Okay, all right,” Foggy huffed.

“Conference room,” she ordered.

Matt followed Foggy as they shuffled obediently into the office’s tiny conference room. For all that the imminent discussion made his gut tighten with anxiety, there was also something strangely reassuring about the fact that Foggy and Karen were both as upset with how they’d left things as he was. And about the fact that both Foggy and Karen were willing to have a hard conversation to address it. Matt lowered himself into the nearest chair; Foggy perched on the edge of the table; Karen took her place at the head of the table, in front of the doorway, clutching the coffee Matt had given her.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll, um, I’ll start. Guys, I’m…I’m really sorry that I went after Wolfe without consulting either of you. I just…” Her head tilted towards Matt. “I wasn’t sure that the whole Daredevil thing would stick, and we needed this to _stick_. But. I made our whole firm a target and that wasn’t my call. So, I’m sorry.” She stopped. Then her breathing hitched. “But—” Then she stopped again. “No. Just. I’m sorry.”

She punctuated her speech with a sip of her coffee.

Matt drummed his fingers nervously on the table. “I’m—I’m sorry for taking this into my own hands.” He remembered Maggie’s point and added, “Even if Karen hadn’t done anything, the fact that I talked to Wolfe specifically about Jaden Walker’s case would’ve been enough for Wolfe to want to make sure our firm felt the backlash. I didn’t, uh…I didn’t think about that when I went after him. I’m used to…” He stopped. Foggy and Karen didn’t need to him to go on and on about exactly how much leash he gave himself as Daredevil. “I just mean, I should’ve talked to both of you. I’m…I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

There.

Foggy shifted his weight on the edge of the table. “I’m…I dunno, guys.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not gonna apologize for _not_ going out and beating people up or threatening them. I’m never gonna apologize for not doing that. But…” He hesitated, deflating a little. “I realize there’s kind of a giant gap between, like, stalking Wolfe and just…writing a strongly worded letter. But I didn’t even try to think of a middle ground, even though…” He lowered his head guiltily. “Yeah, I knew a letter wouldn’t make a difference. I didn’t…I didn’t _want_ to make a difference. I mean,” he added quickly, “I wanted to make a difference for Jaden. But…not if it meant pissing anyone off.”

“You can’t make a difference without pissing people off,” Karen cut in.

“That’s not true,” Foggy shot back. “The inventor of Reese’s peanut butter cups didn’t have to piss anyone off to make a ginormous difference in my life.”

“Guys,” Matt said.

Foggy waited, chin lifted like he was daring Karen to challenge him on the profound and inoffensive impact Reese’s peanut butter cups had had on the world. When she didn’t, he gestured limply. “Anyway. You guys are just braver than I am, but we all already knew that. Still, though. It’s obvious that I’m affected by the crazy stuff you guys do, but I guess you’re also affected by me…refusing to do anything. I’m sorry for not coming up with a real solution short of terrorizing a prosecutor.”

As Foggy finally fell silent, Matt felt some of the tension loosen in his chest. That hadn’t been so bad. No anger, no rejection. Determined to capitalize on the moment of peace, Matt turned to Foggy. “You said you needed help with the motions?” Motions that wouldn’t have needed to be written at all if not for Matt and Karen’s activities, but at least Foggy was more likely to be forgiving now that he was currently thinking about how he’d contributed to the problem.

“Guys,” Karen interjected.

She just couldn’t leave things alone. It was simultaneously one of the most admirable and frustrating things about her. “What?” Matt asked reluctantly.

Coming closer, she swung herself up to sit next to Foggy on the table, ankles crossed. “This was great and everything, but we need to decide what we’ll do the next time a situation like this comes up. I mean, don’t tell me you think this is the _last_ time we’ll hear that the prosecution is withholding evidence or something.”

She was right, she was definitely right, but couldn’t she see how precarious their current peace was? If she started forcing them to nail down the exact limits of their respective comfort zones, someone was going to get upset. Most likely Foggy, whose heart would start beating like he was trapped in the room with two unstable criminals instead of his two best friends.

Judging by the way Foggy was fidgeting with his tie, he agreed.

“What’s gonna happen next time?” Karen pressed. “When we’re already upset because our client’s getting screwed and because the whole system sucks, is that _really_ gonna be the best time for us to try compromising?”

Well, Matt didn’t really have a rebuttal to that. Not one that didn’t sound childish, anyway. _If we have to fight about this, can’t we fight about it later?_

Foggy sighed. “What do you suggest?”

Karen brightened. “A scale, maybe? Like the pain scale? Except this would be, like, a justice scale.” Stretching out her foot, she nudged Matt’s knee. “Things at the top get the full Daredevil treatment. Things at the bottom get strongly worded letters. Things in the middle get…meetings with prosecutors, maybe threats of going to the press.”

Ah. So she _was_ willing to go to the media. Matt felt a stab of guilt; he should’ve just _asked_ her.

“It’s not just about justice or injustice, though,” Foggy argued. “It’s also about how likely it is that we can get change without literally breaking someone’s arm. Like, what if there’s a serious injustice, but all it takes to stop it is to tip off the right person?”

Matt broke his silence. “Then it shouldn’t be a scale.”

They both turned their heads to him. “What?”

“It shouldn’t be a scale. It should be a ladder.” He shrugged uncomfortably, keeping his gaze down. “Where we _start_ on the ladder might depend on the severity of the injustice. But then we climb up the ladder depending on whether any of our other methods gain traction.”

Karen nodded. “Perfect.”’

But Foggy hesitated. “Wouldn’t that make it, like, _really_ obvious that Daredevil’s affiliated with our firm? If he only shows up to deal with something after we’ve tried like ten other ways of dealing with the same thing?”

“I’ll come up with some other reason for Daredevil to know,” Matt said shortly, hoping Foggy wouldn’t ask him to elaborate.

Karen was nodding thoughtfully. “The fact that Daredevil got involved with police corruption before makes it less unreasonable to think that he’d find out about corruption in other areas of government.”

“And if they don’t buy it?” Foggy asked. “Do you realize how many subpoenas our firm will get if they think we’re connected to Daredevil? We could get disbarred.”

“No one’s saying there isn’t a risk,” Matt said quietly. But at some point, the risk would be worth it. Or did Foggy think Daredevil should _never_ get involved? Matt tensed in anticipation of the argument. He couldn’t act ignorant of a problem that Daredevil could fix just because the problem happened to be connected to their firm. He _couldn’t_.

“That’s why it’s so high up the ladder.” Karen’s voice was patient, but there was steel underneath suggesting that she’d only put up with so many more of Foggy’s questions. “Are we good?”

Matt found himself curling his nails into his palms as he waited for Foggy’s answer.

“You guys _really_ like to push me out of my comfort zone,” Foggy muttered, but there was a small smile in his voice. “First I gave up elevators and free bagels and ergonometric chairs. Now this?”

“We’re doing the right thing,” Karen said without a trace of doubt, swooping in and kissing Foggy’s cheek. “Okay, boys, I need to call Ellison.”

Matt felt a jolt of unease. “About the Walker case?” Shouldn’t they wait to see if their other attacks and threats stuck before agitating Wolfe further?

“No,” she said sweetly, “just to catch up on life. Keep the lines of communication open. _Just in case._ ” And with that, she flounced out of the conference room.

Foggy slid off the table, hands in his pockets, body turned towards the door like he was still watching Karen. “Imagine how unstoppable she’d be as a lawyer.”

Matt shook his head. “She’d never be willing to work within all the rules, Foggy. You know that.”

“You’re saying she’d be worse than you?”

“We all bring something different to the table,” Matt mused.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Foggy squeezed Matt’s shoulder. “Well, come on. We still have those motions to slog through. We’ll make it fun.”

“Fun?” Matt asked doubtfully, following him out of the room.

“First one to finish ten motions gets to pick lunch,” Foggy announced.

Matt grinned. “Acceptable.”

They settled into their respective office and Matt slid an earbud into his ear. Things weren’t perfect, and the fact remained that the extra time they’d have to spend writing these motions (and working on appeals when the motions inevitable failed) would cost their clients. Matt would never feel good about that.

But. They had a system in place now, one that would balance justice in both the short and long terms.

And they still had each other, still working together, still watching each other’s backs and believing in each other.

And when Foggy came in an hour or so later to announce that Jaden Walker had been released, Matt decided that Maggie would want to hear about it. He could tell her about the ladder system they’d come up with, too, and he could tell her how thankful he was for these people God had given him.


End file.
